


The Small Spark of a SOUL

by Daishi2442



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asriel is a Total Dork, Frisk loves to poke fun at him, Gen, Interview, OC is basically nonexistent, Post-fix Friskriel fluff, Safe For Work, characters are a little older now, just wanted Frisk to gush and be silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daishi2442/pseuds/Daishi2442
Summary: Frisk answers an interviewer's questions about her relationship with Asriel.





	The Small Spark of a SOUL

“So you and Asriel have been a thing for awhile, yea? When did you...I dunno, when did you know he was the one?” Frisk chuckled, considering the question for a moment, before a smirk took their face. “Hehe, yea it’s been a few years since I think it clicked for me, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.” The small fox tilted its head “You didn’t recognize it then, but you can see it looking back?” Frisk nodded, before standing from the table and giving themself space.

“Second year of high school, pretty early in the year if I remember right. He always had this preference for solitude when he got angry at someone, and over time I figured out where he’d go.” Frisk raised a hand to her chin, glancing at a hanging picture frame, the Royal Extended Family gracing the room with their stares. “But so, on this particular day, he’d gotten really angry at me for standing up to some bullies on my own. They - what?” The fox, holding a hand up, asked “Asriel was angry? With you?” 

An incredulous face was met by Frisk’s laughter “haha, yea, contrary to appearances, he can definitely get angry. It just frequently ends up devolving into a worry-induced bear hug, after he’s said his piece. Anyway, I knew I’d done the right thing, but he needed some time for himself to cool off. It’d been like two hours though, and I hadn’t seen him again or received a text, so I walked out to the part of the forest he usually moped around in.” 

Frisk grabbed a few chairs and arranged them before their place in the room, peering from between two of the tines which formed the seat backing. “When I arrived though, I heard a bunch of impact noises, so I snuck an eye into the clearing without making myself known.” Walking amidst her forest of chairs, Frisk struck a dramatic pose, both hands gripping a broomstick high to the ceiling, before quickly striking sideways. “The first thing I saw was that he had his back to me, then I noticed he was using a single Chaos Sabre instead of the usual dual-sword form. It wasn’t hard to tell he’d cut down more than a few unlucky saplings in the past little while.”

“Why’s it weird that he was using only one?” the monster asked, a curious perk to its ears. Frisk again assumed an aggressive stance, this time with nothing but air between her hands. “Well, so he’s kind of a dork, and he loves being super flashy, right? The dual sabres are basically his soul weaponized - sharp like his perceptive attention, split between hands in a similar way to his own past, and fast to flicker between hot and cold, across his target.” Frisk made rapid slashing motions in multiple directions with no apparent form, but which ended up appearing to smoothly shift into one another. 

“That day, though, I could tell he was doing something specific...experimenting, I guess. He’s always been a wild spirit, even in the worst of times - his creative mind always finds ways to express itself with or without his own conscious thought. For him to have measured slashes, clean lines to his form...something was driving him.” Frisk walked over to the desk in the room’s corner, retrieving a small picture resting on its back. “It wasn’t until after he was done and had sat down, that I could see what he’d been doing.” The small picture was laid before the fox monster, who peered beady eyes over the presented memento.

A boss monster sat on a wide tree stump, blue jean shorts and a green shirt two sizes too large hanging from his shoulders, head resting atop steepled paws. Before it, in crisp relief from the low-hanging sun to the side of the picture, stood a tree inscribed with markings. The markings showed a small human standing before several of its own kind, scribbled angry symbols emitting from the group. Further down the tree, a horned figure in robes stood between the human and its fellows; the swords within the figure’s hands trailed wispy tails of chopped bark. The foot of the tree showed the lone human and the horned figure sitting beside one another, each holding a single sword outstretched dramatically. 

“I took this picture with my phone...at the time I didn’t really know how to feel about the pictures themselves, but I was absolutely in love with him using his freaking swords to draw, hahaha oh man.” Frisk shook her head, grinning madly before considering the picture again. “It’s such a him thing to do. Using fighting implements to draw what he thought was a personal love note. He wasn’t even doing it to show me, just expressing his feelings how he could.” Returning the picture to its place on the desk, Frisk sat down at the table once more, kicking both legs up and crossing her arms to face the monster across from her. 

“I wanted so badly to walk up and hug him, just to see his reaction. He flusters so easily, when caught off guard by his friends and family, heh. But...I could tell he was in one of his moods at the time. Letting him organize his thoughts in peace, express his emotions to himself, and figure out where he stood? That seemed more important than my own satisfaction at turning his face red, even if that reaction just makes me love him more.” Frisk stared at the window across the room, light being cast by a warm summer day into the kitchen. 

“So he drew himself protecting you, and then the two of you raising his sabres to the sky. That’s what told you he was special?” To her credit, Frisk suppressed the physical response to the fox’s disdain, though words were less couched. “Well, in a word, yea. Here he was, using his signature weapons in a unique way to create his own little artful expression of...something he couldn’t name. I couldn’t name it at the time, either, but the swell in my heart at his satisfied smile while he looked it over? I get that feeling every time a giggle escapes him, or when he wordlessly leans against me and makes that funny murring noise boss monsters seem keen on making.”

“But so...it was a few days later, I guess, that I printed out that picture and left it on his pillow.” Frisk grew a predatory smile, rubbing her hands together before throwing them into the air. “OH MY GOD I wish I could’ve captured the abject horror on his face when he walked in after lunch. He looked over at me while I was reading, and just absolutely hissed at me. ‘F R I S K. WHAT. IS. thisssss’ while his eyes damn near bulged out, haha. I hopped up off the bed and pecked him on the cheek to try and pull his attention back to the room, but just ended up making him stare off in the distance for a little.” Frisk tilted her head, rubbing a hand through her frizzy hair before a nostalgic smile traded places with the predator’s grin “Though, now that I think about it? I’ve always kinda had that effect on him, heh. I guess that’s just how he finds purpose, ya know? He’s always known his, just not how to show it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this, it came to mind in a fit of browsing twitter images of hugs. I wrote this intentionally clean and cute, because that's the part of their characters that I enjoy writing. Leave a comment or shoot me a message if you think this kinda thing is up your alley, I pretty much just write things that grab my imagination.


End file.
